I’ve been looking for an opportunity to use this Emerson line for years:
“The scholar sits down to write, and all his years of meditation do not furnish him with one good thought or happy expression; but it is necessary to write a letter to a friend — and, forthwith, troops of gentle thoughts invest themselves, on every hand, with chosen words.”
I realized the truth of this a few years ago when I started trying to explain my general-creative approach to life to friends and family. It’s the kind of thing that needs to be explained in writing, because in person it’s difficult for listeners to postpone judgement long enough to hear all the necessary points. I would try to start by saying, “I love learning, and…” and then get hijacked by someone hurriedly trying to find the simplistic point they already expect: “So you want to go back to school? Maybe you should become a teacher– No? You don’t know what you want to do yet? Well, you’ll figure it out one day– Hey, did you see the hockey game last night?”
Sometimes I got far enough to say I was trying to explain my approach in writing, but then… “Oh you want to be a writer. I’d love to read some of your stuff. Have you sent anything to anybody? You should send it to somebody… Maybe you should go to teacher’s college so you have a way to pay the bills while you work on your novel or whatever– It’s a novel you’re working on, isn’t it?”
As frustrating as that was, it was at least amusing (and enlightening) to think about the irony: the whole reason I write is to explain what I want to do with my life, but then people just assume that what I want to do with my life is become a writer!
Of course, I was largely to blame for the misunderstanding. I was never very clear or certain or confident: I didn’t totally understand my own motivation and direction (and maybe I never will), and it was only by trying to talk and write about it with friends that I started to understand what I inarticulately sensed.
Regardless of whether or not we understand each other (or even ourselves), merely shooting vague ideas and incoherent speculations back and forth — having a “bull session” — can often generate really useful and informative insights.
New associations of ideas can lead to an unexpected formulation or phrase, which might continue to lead to bigger and better things — maybe opening up wider theoretical possibilities or filling in a more practical niche.
This is what happened a moment ago when I responded to some of my friend Mike’s comments. I was just trying to say something brief and casual to thank him — describing how his comments helped me conceive and work out a new line of thought that wasn’t necessarily related to his. I wrote that even if we don’t have a clue what the other person is talking about, conversation can at least “keep thinking alive.”
Once it came out I recognized that “keep thinking alive” can be taken in at least two different senses — two different aspects of my core theme — and it immediately caught on with me as a kind of corporate slogan.
I would elaborate on that, but I’m inclined to keep those thoughts alive and let you play with them yourself. And of course, any kind of response is welcome: we never know what unexpected and enlightening ideas might arise in dialogue.
